


I'm telling you, it's the three R's

by Kiiyoshi



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, actual siegfried still shows up, but lets not get stuck on the semantics, food safety inspectors do not interact, from siegfrieds fate episode, pet zombies, this is actually about Djeeta and the undead knight, this started out as a joke fic but then I started getting feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-10-01 21:53:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20416997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiiyoshi/pseuds/Kiiyoshi
Summary: It had laid waste to entire villages as the apex of its master's sorcery. He called it his greatest creation, a masterpiece befitting his caliber. And yet nothing in its nature said anything about the conundrum of boiling tea.AU where Djeeta revives and keeps the undead knight. Spoilers for Siegfried’s level 100 fate episode.Alternate title: Trust me, I'm a doctor.





	I'm telling you, it's the three R's

———

It woke up not in the middle of the graveyard like it last remembered, but on a bed softer than anything it ever experienced in a room equally unfamiliar. The situation was enough cause for alarm as it quickly recalled what became of its master and of itself, but before it could question its own consciousness, a woman’s voice greeted him. It sounded familiar, which was strange when its master was never one for inviting over many visitors.

“Hello! Looks like you’re awake,” the voice said as brightly as the sunlight streaming in through the window of the room. “Can you hear me?”

It didn’t answer. Rather, it turned its head to find the source of the voice gazing intently at him, flanked by its own spitting image—the very one responsible for cutting down its sole reason for existing.

Its body moved of its own accord and everything was black.

———

“Yes, I know that was my mistake, but I have him strapped down this time—”

“You’ll be the death of me, Captain.”

It awoke to the sound of voices, blinking slowly to find itself in the same room as before only this time its limbs were strapped to the bed like the young woman just said. It tugged at the restraints, effectively drawing their attention.

“You won’t break out of those so easily,” she said with what it recognized as triumph. “Now if you’ll just—”

The leather binding its arms snapped sharply as it broke free before everything was black again.

———

“Third time’s the charm right?” A nervous laugh as it came to, finding itself chained down this time. Its head vaguely throbbed.

“Really now. After all the effort you put into stitching it back together, you go and give it brain damage instead,” came a new voice.

“First of all, he’s not an _ it_, Percy. Second of all, I doubt zombies can get brain damage,” the woman said before noticing that it was awake again. “Oh! Great timing, are you feeling okay? Sorry for before, but you gave me quite the scare… twice.”

“Well, it did try to kill me... twice,” its facesake said before turning his attention to it. “Still angry at me for what I did, huh? I can’t say I’m surprised.”

It bared its teeth as the other whom it now recognized as their captain brought a closed hand to her lips.

“Angry, huh,” she murmured under her breath before looking at it. “You can understand us, right? While I think I know how you feel, I can’t have you attacking Siegfried at every chance you get. Crewmates aren’t supposed to fight, you know.”

The knight in black and the knight in red both sighed, armor clinking as they shifted their weight in unison.

“You can’t be serious, Captain,” the red one said.

“While I would expect something like this from you,” the black one added, “I can’t say I’m not concerned.”

Her words seemed to imply that it was a member of the same crew, of _ any _ crew. Despite the nature of their relationship, it left it to the others to voice their shared confusion.

The captain flapped her hand as if to shoo away their concerns. “Don’t worry, don’t worry,” she insisted, facing it again with the corners of her mouth gently turned upwards.

“I’m ‘this man’s’ captain,” she said. “So kindly make me the target of your revenge instead, okay?”

“_Captain—_” 

It tilted its head as far as its restraints would allow. If she was the master, then the knight in black was her weapon. Her reasoning escaped it at first, but now that it followed her logic, it made all the more sense that there would be no merit in exacting vengeance on a mere tool. Her hands weren’t the ones that slit open its master’s throat, but she wielded the blade all the same and that would be enough reason for it to take her life. 

A master’s for a master’s.

“If you understand, then I’ll untie you,” she continued, mouth straight again. “So get along with the others, okay?”

It nodded and she leaned forward, making quick work of the restraints. When it was certain that none of it would get in its way, it lunged with a hand making a beeline for her throat. However, two swords planted themselves between them before its fingers could pierce her jugular, their edge nearly taking its hand clean off.

“That being said, I’m not exactly _ looking _ to die,” she explained, mouth upturned again with not a single hair out of place while the two knights that flanked her glowered, their hands ready to replace their weapons from the floor to its chest. “Consider it a challenge.”

———

Between the attempts on her life, the captain wasted little time in putting it to work on the ship. It had never traveled the skies before now, but the novelty was lost on it as it found its way to the kitchens to take care of the dishes leftover from that morning’s breakfast. The other crew members that would pass through in hopes of sneaking a quick snack would alternate between awkwardly greeting it and casting it uncertain looks before hurrying off empty-handed. It paid them little mind, and those that tried to make small talk quickly realized that they weren’t going to get much more than one or two words from it. 

However, one of the ship’s cooks, a particularly talkative erune, was especially persistent as he continuously tried to draw its attention to conversation instead of scrubbing the dishes spotless.

“New face around here, huh?” He had said before pausing, leaning in for a closer look as he rubbed his chin. “Hm… def’ the same mug, but you really _ are _undead, huh? And here I was thinking the others were way out of their minds when they were telling me about a zombie in the kitchen.” 

If anyone here knew about the concept of food safety and regulations, then its presence would certainly be problematic. But nobody did. 

It returned to washing and scrubbing, but the other didn’t seem to be done with it as he continued talking. The captain asked it to get along with the others, but that didn’t mean it had to talk back and entertain pointless conversation, especially when there was still work to be done. 

The man introduced himself as Lowain, which it politely repeated before ignoring him when he asked if _ it _ had a name. Unperturbed, the other used the one-sided conversation as an opportunity to discuss life on the ship and complain about the radish shortage on this side of the skydom. It paid closer attention when Lowain mentioned anything pertaining to the captain’s routine in hopes that it would be able to stake out a better opportunity to kill her. Its interest didn’t go unnoticed.

“Oh, got the hots for the Cap’, huh? You and half the ship, but she _did_ save your life, didn't she.”

It didn’t quite understand what he meant by that when it was as cold as any other dead body, or the fact that it didn’t have a life to save in the first place.

Again, Lowain was undeterred by its silence. “I get it, you’re embarrassed. The other dude who looks just like you can be the same way, but if you're my zom-bro, and I'm your wingman, then there's nothing that I can't handle.”

And again, it didn’t understand, but it didn’t care enough to ask for an explanation. If Lowain wasn’t going to tell it the precise times that made up the captain’s daily schedule, then it wasn’t interested.

“If ya wanna show her you really appreciate her, then I know just the thing....” He kept talking as he turned away from it, searching for whatever her was searching for.

He sounded very confident in whatever he was trying to say. It long gave up trying to understand him, but even it couldn’t help but be curious when Lowain turned to rummaging around in the cupboards before pulling out a tin box. It caught a faint whiff of something herbal as he waved it in its face triumphantly.

“Chicks dig this kinda stuff, and it's her favorite. Hand-brewed tea will take you straight to her heart, I guarantee it.”

It didn’t see how it could stab the captain in the heart with a box of tea, but nonetheless it wordlessly accepted the object when Lowain threw it into its hands. 

“O-kay, work time's over, let me your wingman show you how to make a mean pot. Don't forget that it's an _art._”

———

Unfortunately, Lowain was not able to show it how to make a “mean pot” when he was called elsewhere shortly after they got the water boiling, but it made do with his hasty instructions and a vague memory from its facesake.

Carrying the tray in one hand, it knocked on the captain’s door with the other. She answered after a brief moment, blinking when she realized who it was.

“Oh, hello. It doesn’t look like you’re here for your fifth attempt.”

It extended the tray a little in case she didn’t notice it from the get-go. “Tea,” it said.

“Tea?” She asked, blinking again as she tilted her head. “You made this for me?”

Perhaps it wasn’t obvious, so it pushed the tray closer to her. She looked at it for a moment, then back up at it. Before it could repeat what it just said, her face did the strange thing where the corners of her mouth lifted. The expression reminded it of its master’s whenever he was pleased, or if something good happened, or if he discovered something “interesting” during its routine dissections. Even so, the one on her face seemed just the slightest bit different, and it didn’t quite understand how or why.

Before it could ask, the captain stepped to the side and held the door open. It took it as an invitation to enter before she took the tray from its hands and set it down on the nearby desk, pushing away the stacks of papers she must’ve been reading before it interrupted. 

“This is kind of you. Thank you, Mu.”

It turned its head. 

“Ah—” she seemed to catch herself as a hint of color rose to her cheeks. “I figured it would be confusing if there were two Siegfrieds, so I thought I’d call you something else. I-I thought it was cute, but maybe there’s a different name you want to go by?”

It was the master’s prerogative to name their tools, and it recalled nothing outside of being dubbed his perfect weapon or "grand masterpiece" that suited the caliber of his sorcery. What it was called made no difference to it, so there was no need to complain if the captain needed a way to distinguish it from its facesake. It would know if it was being talked to regardless.

“Mu… is okay,” it said after a moment and she did the thing with her face again.

“Hehe, I’m glad. That was the first sound you made after I patched you up, but you probably don’t remember, huh?” 

Its blank stare was enough of an answer for her. She shrugged, expression unchanging.

“Well then, if you don’t mind,” she said as she began to pour herself the tea. “I only wish you brought two cups though.”

It watched as she brought the cup to her lips, expression warming at its scent before she took her first sip. For a moment, her face was unreadable before her mouth curved upwards again, eyes closed in what it could only perceive as pleasure.

“It’s nice. Thank you, Mu.”

———

It became a habit of its to boil tea for the captain after it finished tidying up the kitchen and mess hall. She seemed to enjoy the way it made it, so it found no need to ask Lowain to show it how to properly make a “mean pot” and the other didn’t bring it up either, having forgotten about telling it about the captain’s favorite blend in the first place. It was unsurprising when Lowain didn’t strike it as a man of focus when their usual one-sided conversations bounced from one topic to another. 

“Any luck with the Cap’,” he asked when the conversation made its usual stop.

It shook its head. It tried splitting open the captain’s skull with an axe just right before breakfast, but a crew member disarmed it from the shadows before it was even within striking distance. The captain introduced him as “Jamil” before scolding it for the failure and nearly causing a scene.

“Shucks, I know that look,” Lowain said. “Ya' have to get her when she’s alone, Zom-bro. Can't let cold feet get to ya'.” As if to reaffirm his words, he promptly slapped it on the back which it immediately recoiled from, gazing at him reproachfully.

“Huh.” Lowain blinked. “Did that hurt? Hey! Don’t tell me you’re still messed up from before?”

It said nothing and the other shook his head, shoulders heaving with a huge sigh.

“No good. Can’t have my number one dishwasher work himself to an early grave. That’s dedication, I’ll give ya’ that, but you’ll make the Cap’ angry if you don’t take care of yourself first. Have yourself a checkup, okay?”

———

Lowain’s willingness to impart advice on how to murder his own captain struck it as odd, but it was nonetheless open to his suggestion in seeking out the captain for the state of its body. However, there had been no need for it to approach her when she approached it first for their “regular checkup”. 

White coat materializing in thin air, the captain dressed herself before slapping down a canvas bag filled with familiar-looking instruments. Adjusting the stethoscope around her neck, she motioned for it to sit down on the bed.

“Hm, guess I don’t need this when you don’t have a heartbeat, but… ah, what the hell,” she muttered to herself, motioning at it again for it to take off its shirt. This would be their first checkup, but it already knew the routine. 

She pressed the end of the stethoscope to its bare chest, listening intently as if there was anything to listen to. “Nope, no heartbeat at all. Well, it didn’t hurt to check, right? That’s what we’re here for after all.” Her mouth turned up again when she glanced up at it.

It continued to sit obediently as the other went about her business inspecting its stitches and scars, both old and new. After a thorough inspection, she finally sat back as the stool squeaked underneath her weight.

“You’re doing okay then? Does it hurt anywhere?”

It thought back on Lowain’s words. It understood hurt, not from the hazy memories it inherited through its facesake, but by the regular dissections its master would perform on it. Without considering anything else, it would prefer not to be in pain, but it seemed to please its master when he dug around in its insides or decided to swap limbs and organs for something new. Its master was the curious type, always eager to try something novel if it brought them both closer to “perfection”, so if he could find meaning in its pain, then that was enough reason to bear with it.

Even so, the captain looked neither pleased nor excited when she asked the question.

“...Yes,” it finally answered, hand subconsciously touching where the black knight had nearly split it in two. 

“Eh—” She startled and it wondered if it answered wrongly. “It still hurts? You should’ve told me sooner—no, I should’ve noticed it myself. Stupid, stupid…” She tugged at her own hair before whirling around on her seat to dig through her bag of medical instruments. “Here I was getting mad at Percy for calling you a corpse when I just _ assumed _ the pain wouldn’t be an issue for the undead. _ Stupid_…”

She turned back around wielding a jar filled with some waxy substance. “Panacea is out of the question, which is why it took so long for me to sew you back together, but at least this will help with the pain I think. Let me know if it stings, okay? You’re the first zombie I’ve doctored.”

It didn’t answer, but it didn’t protest either when she began to slather on the medicine. The balm was cold, but her fingers were warm, hot even, against its skin—a far cry from the unforgiving edge of a scalpel. 

“If it hurts, then it’s okay for you to complain,” she said softly. “I know you don’t like to talk, but you can manage that much at least, right?”

She didn’t want it to be in pain even though it didn’t affect her. The notion was so strange and unfamiliar like everything else it had encountered on the ship so far, but not entirely unwelcome. If there was no longer any meaning to be found in its hurt, then that was just the way it was. 

———

Carrying the usual pot of tea with two cups like the captain requested before, it stopped in its tracks at the sound of raised voices emanating from her cabin. 

“I already told you, I just wanted to become a better doctor—”

“An excuse like that would only work on a half-wit like Vane,” snarled the red knight’s voice. Its facesake’s memory reminded it that his name was Percival, or as the captain occasionally called him, Percy. “I was willing to put up with your frivolity this time around, but it almost got you. You would’ve been better off leaving that thing in the ground where it belongs.”

“He’s not a _ thing _,” the captain shot back, equally heated. It never heard her so angry before. “He’s only trying to kill me because he’s angry and he wants vengeance, Percy. What does that tell you?”

“Do you hear yourself? It tells me you’re a fool,” Percival replied. “How the hell are we to accept that thing when your life is always in danger?”

That was a bit of an exaggeration. All its attempts on the captain’s life amounted to a mere scratch on her arm before Percival had slammed it into a wall, sword at its throat until the captain quickly pulled them apart, reminding them both that crewmates weren’t supposed to fight.

But the two of them were fighting right now, weren’t they? And for what?

“Ugh,” she groaned and it imagined her grinding her teeth together in what it’d recognize as frustration. “You’re so sensible that you can be so utterly _ dense _ without knowing it. Anyways, he’s no longer trying to kill Siegfried, and I think I’m pretty good at not dying.”

It was Percival’s turn to voice his own frustration in what it could only describe as a mangled roar. “I’m utterly done with you, Djeeta. What don’t you understand about a zombie that’s already slaughtered an entire village trying to kill you?”

The captain started to say something but stopped, silence echoing between them.

“Whatever,” Percival continued after a moment. It heard footsteps approaching it from the other side of the door. “If my vassal wants to endanger herself and selfishly drag everyone along with her stupid ideas, then I can’t stop her.”

He didn’t give her a chance to respond when he burst through the door, almost sending the tray of tea it carried crashing to the ground. 

Percival gave it a single glance of utmost loathing before storming off without another word, the sound of armor clinking fading with his footsteps down the hallway. When it was certain that he wasn’t going to return to finish the job from this morning, it turned its back and entered the other’s quarters.

The captain didn’t notice it come in at first. If it had a knife, then this would’ve been a prime opportunity to bury it in her neck now that they were alone like Lowain suggested, but alas.

Only when it set the tray down on the usual spot did she whirl around, bracing herself against the chair.

“M-Mu—! Oh, you heard all of that, didn’t you?” Her eyes were red, and she quickly turned her face away to wipe them when she noticed it staring. “I’m sorry—Percival didn’t mean any of that, he’s just worried, that’s all…”

Percival sounded like he meant every word, and the animosity in his eyes only made that all the more clear when he passed it by, but the captain seemed to have had enough of disagreements for the night. Wordlessly, it began to fill the two cups with tea when she seemed too distracted to do it herself like she usually did.

The captain sniffed as she accepted the cup, face downturned. It blinked then, tilting its head as it studied the way her brow and lips furrowed. Despite everything, the red knight did bring up a valid question of _ why_. Why did this person raise it from the ground?

Until now, it was never one to ask why things were the way they were. When its master commanded it to kill, it didn’t question him. When its master commanded it to lie down on a cold slab so he could cut it open, it didn’t question him. Spreading his sorcery and satiating his curiosity brought him pleasure—there was never a need to question its purpose when it knew from the moment it opened its eyes what its purpose was in this world.

Yet the captain never told it its purpose. What did it mean to wash dishes and sweep floors and brew tea if its own existence was a threat to her life? What did it mean when her own actions only seemed to earn her the ire of her crew members?

It didn’t understand. As she wiped away the liquid threatening to spill from her eyes, what was its purpose supposed to be?

“Thank you,” she managed, bringing the cup to her lips before pausing. “...You’re not going to drink?”

It realized it was still staring at her. It couldn’t look away even when she tried to hide her face or avert her gaze. There was a tightness it didn’t understand, a feeling that told it this expression didn’t suit her the slightest bit. This… this reminded it of pain.

“...Hurt,” it asked, tilting its head the other way. The captain blinked up at it again, too surprised at the sudden question to look away.

She didn’t seem to understand, so it reached out and touched a finger to one of the glistening trails on her face. It was the first time it touched her of its own volition without trying to kill her, but she didn’t shy away.

“Oh…” She said, shoulders lowering just the slightest bit. “No, it doesn’t hurt, Mu.”

The tightness remained despite her reassurance. What else could it do to untangle the knot in her brow and in its core? Compared to its master, this person was so needlessly complicated and confounding in both her words and actions that it didn't quite know how to help her.

Without a word of its own, it drew its hand back before pressing a finger to both corners of its mouth. After making sure she wasn’t going to hide her face again, it pressed upwards in its best efforts to recreate that expression.

It was the captain’s turn to stare at him, utterly dumbfounded while it held its fingers in place.

Then her face split into something bright, her eyes closing in the way that reminded it of pleasure. She was laughing then, setting the tea down so she could bring a hand to her own mouth instead.

“You want me to smile,” she asked, wiping the last of the wetness from her eyes. “Hehe, there’s really no end to your surprises, is there?”

So that was what it was called then. A smile. The memories of its facesake confirmed it to be true and it allowed its hands to drop back to its sides when she finally understood what it was saying. This look suited her better it thought, not that it knew why. 

It watched her settle down then, expression warming as she brought the cup close to her chest. It recognized the look in her eyes as the same one its master assumed after confirming a hypothesis or reaffirming an answer he already knew. What answers she held in that head of hers, it could only guess.

“Thank you for worrying about me,” she murmured softly.

It knew pleasure and warmth when it was reflected on the faces of others. As for itself, it was just another guess as it too brought the cup of tea close to its chest.

———

The days continued to pass on the Grandcypher and its presence became a regular part of the ship’s happenings. The girl whom the memories told it was Lyria often stopped by to help out with the chores after meal time, and the rest of the crew seemed to grow accustomed to its residence on the ship while some were even bold enough to instate it as their conversation partner.

“You’re a good listener, aren’t you, Mu,” they would say.

As the captain assigned it more duties such as clearing out the storage and reorganizing the supplies for the kitchen staff, it found less and less time to stake out opportunities to exact its revenge. Needless to say, the few opportunities it did manage to grasp always ended in failure when the captain proved over and over again that she was no easier target than the black knight himself.

Once that day’s chores were complete, it took to the usual routine by preparing a pot of hot water for that evening’s tea. Lowain and the others had retired for the night, but as it arranged the dishes and cups and cookies—as per the captain’s second request—its solitude was cut short.

Lyria came skipping into the kitchen, dragging a less-than-eager Percival by the wrist. It couldn’t describe every crew member as open and friendly towards it, but at the very worst, they were only skeptical of their undead custodian and nothing more. Lyria was one of the first to take to it well, but the same could not be said for the other who radiated animosity each time their paths crossed, which was often considering the fact that they occupied the same ship.

“Oh, it’s the corpse. I hope nobody’s put you in charge of food preparation.” 

Save for the tea, no one has, but at this point, it’s been doing this of its own volition. The realization gave it pause—no one asked it to continue making tea, so why was it still doing it?

“Don’t call him that,” Lyria scolded. “Djeeta will get mad.”

Percival scoffed. “What, plan on telling on me to the captain? Well, you dragged me here for… what was it again?”

The girl in blue jumped at the opportunity to change the topic. “The cookies, Percival! The captain picked out the ones with strawberry jam just for y—oh, it looks like Mu already found them.”

There were more, it seemed to say as it pushed the still mostly full box towards them both. It couldn’t describe itself as particularly amicable towards the red knight who seemed to itch for any opportunity to start a fight, but it supposed if it gave them what they were looking for, then they would leave. 

“Hehe, is that for Djeeta?” Lyria asked, smiling in the same way the captain often would. “She told me you would make her tea almost every night. That’s really sweet of you! Right, Percival?”

It understood what she was trying to do, but it wanted to tell the girl to save her efforts.

Percival scoffed again just like it thought he would. “Don’t be ridiculous. For all we know, it’s just slowly poisoning the captain.”

Lyria huffed, growing a few inches taller as she stood on her toes. “That’s not true and you know its not! Otherwise you wouldn’t be letting him give Djeeta poisoned tea, right?” She turned to it. “It’s not poisoned, right, Mu?”

“No,” it answered.

“Of course it would say that.”

Lyria huffed again. “Djeeta said the undead don’t lie. I know you two don’t get along, but he’s still somebody Djeeta trusts, isn’t he? I’ll prove it too. Can I try a cup?” Her pout turned to another smile as she asked.

It wordlessly poured one and pushed it towards her, hoping there would at least be enough left to satisfy the captain by the end of the night if people were going to make a habit out of asking for samples. 

“Thank you,” she beamed before bringing the cup to her mouth. She blew on it a few times before taking a tiny sip.

Her face immediately wrinkled. “O-Oh…” she sputtered.

Percival looked like he was about to smack the cup out of her hands, which would be problematic considering they only had a limited supply of tea cups. “Lyria, is it—?”

“It’s not poisoned,” Lyria hastily answered before he could do any damage. “But Mu… is this the same tea you’ve been giving to Djeeta…?”

It tilted its head. Had it made a mistake? It was unlikely considering it grabbed the same tin as usual, and it had brewed the tea so many times before that it would know by now if somebody swapped its contents for anything else.

“Hmph, you have me curious now,” Percival said as he took the cup from her hands, downing the rest of the liquid before promptly spraying it back out all over its face and cookies. It reminded itself of the captain’s request that they not try to kill each other. “You call this _ tea_?”

It was safe to say at this point that they didn’t enjoy it like the captain supposedly did.

“A-aha…” Lyria chuckled uncertainly. “I-I suppose it’s okay if the captain says she likes it, right?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Percival said again as he borderline slammed the cup back down with a sharp _ clack_. “This is straight up undrinkable. Don’t tell me no one actually showed you how to steep the leaves, corpse.”

“...No,” it answered with its own degree of uncertainty. Was there more to brewing tea than boiling it until the leaves dissolved into mush? How else was it supposed to get all the flavor out then?

Percival rubbed his brow, sighing as if he read its thoughts. “I can’t let you give this to the captain. Dump this out—we’re going to start from scratch.”

———

The captain was in her pajamas when she opened the door, rubbing her eyes.

“Oh hello, Mu. I would’ve stayed up longer if I knew you were coming.” She stepped aside to let it in, clearing the desk for space.

It set the tray down, fumbling as it poured the usual two cups.

“Hm, the color’s different… Oh and you arranged everything differently too,” she noted as she pulled up another chair to sit down in. “Are we trying something new tonight?”

In a way, yes. It could only hope for the best, but Percival took it upon himself to bar it from leaving the kitchen until it did everything properly. 

“Hehe, what’s with that look? Don’t tell me someone’s been bullying you,” she said, smiling as warmly as she usually did. “Thank you for the tea.”

It watched her take the first sip, too intent on her soon-to-be reaction to pay any attention to its own cup. Her face didn’t crumple like Lyria’s, nor did it smile with relief at the taste of something that wasn’t “high garbage” as Percival had helpfully pointed out.

“It’s the same blend, but you prepared it differently didn’t you?” She said, blinking before taking another sip.

It dipped its head. The captain never sent it away for the night with a pot that wasn’t empty. She would drink every last drop it poured for her with not a single hint of distaste on her face, but both Lyria and Percival’s reactions made it clear what its tea tasted like to the living. What meaning was there in forcing herself to drink something that caused her displeasure when it would’ve been a trivial matter to send it back to the kitchen?

Again, the captain proved herself to be utterly baffling. 

A warm touch to its cheek brought it back out of its thoughts as she thumbed the wrinkle in its brow. “If someone’s bullying you, I’ll talk to them. Was it Percival?”

Setting the red knight up for a scolding at the captain’s hands was tempting, but it shook its head. “The tea… wasn’t good,” it replied, gaze dipping again. 

“Oh…” she said before she gently ruffled its hair, eyes filling with that contagious warmth of hers. “That’s what you’re worried about?”

It frowned to the best of its ability as it looked back up at her. “Why drink…?”

Her face split into another smile. Tenderness, reassurance… it didn’t quite understand what those things were, but the memories of its facesake convinced it that it could be at ease with her. “Why? Because you made it especially for me. Do I need any other reason to be happy about it?”

Maybe, maybe not—it still didn’t understand, but she brought its head close before it could sink deeper into meaningless thoughts, hand caressing the top of its head. Everything about her was warm, always warm. The way she smiled and laughed, the way she traced its seams with a tenderness previously alien to it—everything about her made it easy to forget its own inherent coldness. 

It shut its eyes then, utterly content to trade its worries for her comfort.

———

It had long grown used to the bustle and excitement of the ship, but it immediately knew that something was wrong moments before Percival rushed onto deck with the captain in his arms. Its facesake cleared the way while Lyria followed closely behind, tears in her eyes as the other members of today’s party frantically shouted orders to the rest of the crew.

“Make way! We need to get the captain to the infirmary—where's Lennah? The bleeding’s been stopped, but—” 

The broom it used to sweep the deck dropped with a clatter as the party rushed below deck to where the infirmary was, taking the captain with them. The smell of her blood hung heavy in the air, its sweetness a familiar taste on its tongue. 

———

Percival blocked its path when it found the infirmary. Even as it came to a stop, the other made no move to acknowledge it until it spoke.

“Where is she,” it asked.

“You followed the smell of her blood here, didn’t you?” Percival answered, arms crossed as he stood in front of the door to the room where it knew the captain was being kept. “I don’t care how the captain and Lyria feel about you. I’m not letting you in.”

It brought itself to meet his unforgiving gaze that burned like fire. “Move,” it said.

“No,” he replied.

It closed a fist then. Up until now, it was content to honor her request not to pick fights with its crewmates, but if this person insisted on standing between it and the captain, then it would bring itself to disobey. Just this once.

Sensing the bloodlust in the air, Percival’s hand flew to the hilt of his sword, but it already knew it had the advantage by virtue of being the black knight’s copy in more than just appearances. That wasn’t to say it would leave this battle unscathed, but whatever happened to this body of it would be a small price to pay to get through that door.

However, before they could close the distance between themselves, the black knight appeared without either of them noticing, one hand closed around its wrist with the other on Percival’s.

“That’s enough,” said Siegfried, the very man its own body was cut up and molded over and over to resemble. “The both of you know better.”

“Better? I’m going to put it in the ground where it belongs,” Percival said through gritted teeth. 

Siegfried raised a brow. “Is that how you treat somebody you’ve been giving tea-brewing lessons for the past week? I understand you’re worried, but you’re usually more level-headed than this, Percival.” 

Percival sheathed his blade despite himself. “I’m calmer now. My answer is still no.”

“...Want to see her,” it said, unblinking eyes refusing to leave the door. “Want to see her… Please.”

Siegfried let go of its wrist, a look of thoughtfulness crossing his face. “Very well then.”

Percival startled. “Siegfried, this thing has been trying to kill her from—!”

“Hm, about that,” he replied calmly. He looked like he wanted to say something more but thought better about it. “No, never mind, it’s not my place to say. Mu, are you going to try and kill the captain if we allow you in?”

“No,” it answered.

“There you have it,” Siegfried said, turning back to the other. “A corpse can’t lie, Percival. Let him in.”

“You—!”

“If somebody stood between you and seeing your injured vassal, you wouldn’t hesitate in cutting them down, would you,” he asked, voice taking on an edge. “The fact that he’s asking us in order to honor the captain’s wishes should speak loudly enough. Let him in, Percival.” 

For a moment, it thought he would continue to refuse, but the red knight eventually stepped to the side, his teeth grinding together. “If it lays a hand on her, then you know I won’t hesitate.”

Siegfried appeared satisfied. “I won’t let that happen, and neither will you.” 

———

The stench of her blood hung just as heavy as before when it rushed in, dropping to its knees once it reached her bedside.

The captain still drew breath despite the state that kept her confined to the bed. A healer must have done their best closing her wounds, leaving the rest of the work to nature after bandaging her torso not without the medicine whose scent permeated the air. The lingering traces of Panacea made its eyes water, but it was far from enough to keep it from nudging her side.

“Captain…” It managed, wanting to hold her but not knowing where it could touch without having her fall apart. “Captain…”

When she didn’t answer, it shut its eyes and pressed its forehead to the side of her arm. She was just as warm as it remembered, and if it willed itself to listen, then it could hear the traces of her pulse as well. Every sign told it she was still alive, so why did that tightness have such a firm hold on it? 

Until setting foot, or rather, until being dragged onto the ship, it was never one to ask why. It was never one to entertain possibilities or wonder what the future held for it. Life or lack thereof was about fulfilling its master’s wishes and serving as the trophy of his life’s work without question. And yet it couldn’t help but wonder what would become of it if the captain died by any other hand. For whom would it serve tea in the evening? For whom would it refrain from returning the red knight’s venom? And from whom would it accept a gentle pat on the head to let it know that everything would be all right?

A strange, unrecognizable sound left its lips as it pressed closer to her side. Ages seemed to pass until the captain finally stirred.

“Siegfried…” she murmured, her voice hardly more than a hoarse whisper. “Ah, no… I got it wrong…”

It straightened in an instant, any words it wanted to say now lodged in its throat in their hurry to escape.

“Hehe, don’t be mad… You two look a lot alike you know,” she said, smiling at her own joke before her face twisted.

“Does—” its voice broke before it swallowed and tried again. “Does it hurt?”

Her expression softened despite the pain it saw in the lines of her face. It knew the answer when it was obvious enough, but still, it needed to ask.

“A little,” she said after a moment. “But I’ll be okay, so don’t cry… Don’t cry, Mu...”

She touched her hand to the side of its face before it noticed the water dripping down its cheeks. It was getting harder to see so it wiped its eyes and she took the opportunity to draw it closer with what little strength she had, open palm finding place atop its head. She patted it once, twice. 

“Captain—” was all it could croak, its tongue feeling strangely thick and heavy in its mouth.

“You don’t call me that very often,” she said quietly, fingers threading through its hair. “Which means I really outdid myself this time, haha...”

It pressed its face to the crook of her shoulder, her bandages soaking up most of what it now knew were tears. It didn’t understand why it hurt so much when it wasn’t the one lying in bed injured, its own wounds having long healed under her care. No scalpel or saw or drill could pierce it any deeper than the pain taking residence in its chest.

The captain gently shushed it, looping her elbow over its head to cradle it with her uninjured arm. Another strange sound left its mouth as it clung to her warmth.

“It’ll be okay,” she murmured, breath soft as she pressed it closer.

———

Siegfried was waiting for it when it left the infirmary in the dead of night. It found him leaning against the wall, arms crossed with his greatsword strapped to its usual spot at his back.

It meant to pass him without saying a word, but he didn’t let it go so easily.

“Does a mere weapon rise on its own to avenge a fallen master?”

It stopped in its tracks then, quietly turning its head to look at him as he regarded it with a reserved expression. They really were made in the same image, their tousled hair falling in the same waves, cheeks and brow sculpted the same way, lips the same curve. The only thing that differed between them was his gleaming amber and its own lifeless gray.

It sensed no animosity from him. After all, it was this person’s voice that echoed softly in its head, reminding it what the names of its crewmates were, what a smile was, what laughter was, what it meant to feel pain or pleasure or sadness. 

“A sword at the beck and call of a higher power—that’s what we called ourselves in the beginning. Well, until that woman messed everything up with those strange ideas of hers. Mu, do you know your purpose yet?”

A purpose. It had forgotten the question. 

Siegfried regarded its confused silence with a smile that was easy to miss. “If one has the capacity to hate, then one has the capacity to love—that was what the captain told me. Every one of your attempts on her life for the sake of avenging something, someone you cherished only affirmed what she already knew in her heart to be true. It’s no wonder Percival couldn’t change her mind.”

“... Don’t understand,” it said. 

Despite the wounds they inflicted on one another, Siegfried’s eyes were free of the enmity it had grown to expect from the red knight. It was made in his image and even inherited a hollow copy of his memories, yet it understood him the least out of the others save for the captain herself. 

“Mu, after tasting the kindness of life, can you honestly say that you still wish to see the captain dead?” 

It raised a hand to its chest, fingers digging into the spot where its still heart lay. It hurt to think about it, to imagine the captain in a place where she could no longer smile or open her eyes, so why did the same hands that served her tea continuously try to bring her there? When did its revenge turn from a desire into a mere routine it no longer thought about?

“Don’t want…” It swallowed. “I don’t want it.”

Siegfried shut his eyes, chin dipping as a smirk crossed his face. “That’s a good kid,” he said. “We’re no longer tools or swords to be drawn, so you don’t have to do everything you’re told. It was just a whim after all.”

“A… whim.”

Siegfried’s expression softened with the same warmth as the captain’s and as they spoke to one another, it realized the knight knew far more about it than it did of him and itself. From where did he draw his intuition as he regarded it with a strange sort of tenderness? It could only imagine it was the same place from where the captain drew hers. 

“..._Mu _ is the word for emptiness and nothingness,” he said softly. “Perhaps the captain hoped that from nothingness, you could determine your own purpose.”

———

She was a woman of endless whims, a woman who crossed the skies with purpose as her vessel, and impulse as the wind in her sails.

When Djeeta found the pieces of him lying amongst the grass after she returned to the graveyard, it was a whim that asked her to take off his helmet.

When she did, she saw what remained of the tears that flowed from lifeless eyes, and it was another whim that asked her to bring the pieces back to the ship.

It was a whim that asked her to don the white coat and set to work. A whim that asked her to let out her own blood to fix what a needle and thread couldn’t. A whim to ask him to try and take her life instead so that maybe they could live peacefully.

All of it, just one whim after another.

———

As the captain promised, she got better. Mending a body that was still alive turned out to be much more straightforward than anything she put him through, and after a few more casts of Panacea, she was on her own two feet again and he had returned to making tea and sweeping floors.

Well, for the most part.

“Looks like you have yourself a shadow, Captain,” Siegfried said.

“Hm?” She glanced at the knight before reaching up to pat him on the head. “Is that right, Mu?”

“...Mm,” he replied, straight-faced as he nuzzled into the top of her head despite Percival’s armor-piercing glares. She only giggled without pushing him away even though the arrangement made it harder for either of them to both walk properly. 

“Lyria’s been telling me how well you’ve been getting along with the others,” she pointed out, pausing for a moment before addressing his counterpart. “Don’t tell me you spoiled it, Siegfried.”

Percival saved him from answering, having had enough of his shameless displays of utter devotion. “Get off of her, corpse, and walk properly while you’re at it—we already have one mongrel on ship, we don’t need another.”

“Noo,” the captain whined, immediately distracted from her own question. “Don’t call him that, you’ll hurt his feelings!” 

“Mm… only jealous,” he muttered.

Percival’s rage could do him no harm as he smirked from behind the barrier that was the captain’s face. Siegfried made no attempt to intervene, having narrowly dodged her rightful suspicions.

The days aboard the Grandcypher passed peacefully after that. Ever since Siegfried mentioned it, he had found himself wondering what the “kindness of life” truly was during the quieter days where his thoughts would wander to places previously unreachable. Siegfried called it a whim of the captain, but everything he had was due to the kind of person she was. After all, who else could collect the pieces of him from that graveyard, seeing only the tears that a hollow vessel could never shed? 

That was the way she was. She spread warmth to places where it didn’t exist, saw life where light couldn’t reach. If there was even a single chance that a puppet could determine its own purpose, then perhaps that was all the reason the captain needed.

It was nothing more, nothing less.


End file.
